J. Blair - The Pendragon Murders

She put her hand on top of his, hoping the gesture reassured him, and they rode on in silence. Before long the rhythmic motion of the carriage and the clatter of the horses’ hooves had lulled them all into a gentle sleep.

Not long after dark the rain began, a fierce, driving downpour. The noise of it woke the passengers. They shuttered the windows and rode on, quite safely encapsulated, without much conversation. Nimue offered blankets to the drivers, to help keep them dry, but it was useless. The blankets were soaked through in no time at all.

After a time, they slept again, all but Merlin, who was preoccupied wondering if the natural calamity he feared would be the undoing of the England he and Arthur had made. In time, he slept, too.

Early the next morning, well before dawn, the carriage’s pace slowed almost to a stop. It woke Merlin and Petronus. The others slept on.

“What’s wrong?” Petronus asked softly.

Merlin held a finger to his lips and said quietly, “There is no sense disturbing Colin.” Then he leaned out the window and called softly to the driver, “What is happening? Why have we slowed?”

The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle that showed no signs of letting up. The sky was still overcast, almost black, though occasional breaks in the cloud cover could be seen. The driver, himself drowsing, did not hear him. On the seat beside him the second man, his relief, was fast asleep. “How they can sleep in this rain-” Merlin muttered.

He repeated his question a bit more loudly, and this time the man responded. “The rain, sir, has turned the road to mud. We can only go so fast. On top of that, the road is clogged with travelers. Most of them are on foot.”

Merlin squinted and looked up the road ahead of them. Through the rain and the darkness he could see that there were enormous numbers of people on the road. They progressed in silence and in darkness; the rain had extinguished whatever lights they might have had. “Travelers? In such huge numbers? Who on earth can they be?”

The man shrugged. “People fleeing from Dover. We’ve finally caught up with them.”

“Has everyone from Dover taken the same road, then?”

“And I think a lot of them must be pilgrims, heading to the shrine.”

“Shrine? Oh. Stonehenge.”

“Yes, sir. It’s too bad. They won’t see the sunrise.”

“They will face worse disappointments soon enough.”

Before long the press of people forced the carriage to slow to the pace of a man walking. Merlin suggested trying to find a way around the crowd.

“Look at them, sir. They are all around us. Everywhere.”

And so they were. Hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands, as far as Merlin could see. They crossed the plain, clogged the road, made further progress excruciatingly slow. Soon enough, Merlin realized, it might be necessary to stop altogether. He said so to Petronus, who did not try to disguise his delight. “Then I will be able to see the monument after all!”

“Yes, I suppose so. Assuming the plague is not spreading through this crowd even as we speak.”

The carriage inched forward. The driver woke his companion, and they tried shouting, “Make way for the king’s advisor!” It had no effect.

“Tell me what it’s like, sir. What should I expect?” Anticipation showed in Petronus’s face.

But Merlin’s mood was growing darker by the minute. “Expect a crowd of superstitious fools.”

“But-”

“You have seen sketches of Stonehenge, surely.”

“Yes, sir, but-”

“Expect to be disappointed, then. For all its reputation, Stonehenge is not all that large or imposing. People always expect something on a titanic scale, like the Pyramids or the Colosseum in Rome. This is nowhere near so massive. There is a stone circle, uprights with stone lintels connecting them. Inside, there are five more of these ‘trilithons’ as they are called, uprights and lintels, forming a rough horseshoe. Then near the center is a huge stone used as an altar. And there are a few other bits of debris; they have been given fanciful names like the Heel Stone and the Slaughter Stone. But for all the whimsy, they are only rock. It is nothing to be excited about.”

“I’m excited, sir.”

“Don’t be.”

“I can’t help it. Wouldn’t you have been, when you were my age?”

“I was never your age. And even when I was, I would never have admitted it.”

In the distance ahead Stonehenge appeared, lit by scores of torches. The great stone circle glowed eerily, almost pre ternaturally. Merlin wondered why the rain did not put them out.

But the rain was easing; within a few moments it almost stopped. It had done its job; the plain was a sea of mud. They would be lucky if the carriage wheels did not become mired in it.

Then there was the sound of another carriage behind them. Merlin leaned out the window to look. It was an enormous thing, painted jet-black, drawn by a team of six black horses. On either side of the driver torches burned brilliantly. “Morgan,” he whispered softly to himself. Then to Petronus he said, “Apparently the high priestess of England is not daunted by terrible weather.”

“They say she can control it, sir. Maybe that’s why the rain is stopping now.”

“Do not be preposterous.” To the driver Merlin suggested, “The crowd will part for Morgan. Follow her carriage and we will make quick progress as far as the monument, at least.”

And the crowd did indeed part for their priestess. Merlin’s driver steered their coach behind hers. The quick forward jolt woke Nimue. She rubbed her eyes and asked what was happening.

Petronus excitedly told her, “We’re going to see Stonehenge and the equinox rites.”

Merlin grumped and kept his gaze outside.

Hordes of people surrounded the great stone monument, all of them seemingly with torches; they passed the fire one to another. The great stones glowed and shimmered in the predawn. They might have been fired by lightning. But he noticed that all the torches were outside the stone circle. Presumably the worshippers were waiting outside, away from the altar stone, in deference to their priestess.

Morgan’s coach drew to a halt just at the paved pathway that led into the heart of Stonehenge. Merlin’s stopped just behind it.

The crowd fell silent with anticipation. Slowly the door of Morgan’s carriage opened and she descended. She was dressed magnificently, in voluminous black robes embroidered with silver. Just behind her, her son Mordred emerged from the carriage, looking self-conscious, dressed like her in black and silver.

When she saw Merlin and the others get out of their carriage, she crossed to him. “What are you doing here?”

Merlin resented her tone. He put on a sarcastic grin and said, “Why, Morgan. How nice to see you.”

“I asked you what you are doing here. I can’t recall a time when you were not disdainful of the ancient, solemn rites that made England what she is.”

He was all sweet innocence. “We’ve come to see the monument. My assistant never has, you know. Surely you do not object to our visiting this sacred place?” He did not mean a word of it, and they both knew it.

“You are a sacrilegious old fool, Merlin. I will not have the equinox defiled by your presence. The ritual must be postponed.”

“Postpone the movement of the sun? Really, Morgan, I had no idea even you had that kind of power.”

“Do not be sarcastic, Merlin. You said yourself this is a holy place.”

“Please, Morgan, do go on with what you came for.” He made a sweeping gesture at the crowd. “I give you my word I will not interfere in any way. Look at the audience you have.”

“Congregation,” she corrected him.

“Congregation, then. These people have come from all over England to hear you invoke the sun god. My assistant Petronus is especially eager to witness the rites. It would be terrible of you to disappoint them all.”